


love ain't never been your friend

by Chicaroscuro



Series: run to the devil [2]
Category: The Good Place (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-29
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:35:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25578922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chicaroscuro/pseuds/Chicaroscuro
Summary: While cleaning out her childhood home, Tahani makes some rather unsettling discoveries regarding her famous and beloved sister, Kamilah.
Series: run to the devil [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853605
Comments: 23
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _[love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D4lnf96zDfI) never gonna hear what you're demanding  
> love ain't some magical thing  
> love never gonna be the way you're dreaming ___

Kamilah Al-Jamil is beloved by everyone.

This has been a simple fact of existence for as long as Tahani can remember. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and no one will ever love Tahani as much as they do her sister.

Is she bitter about it? Of course not! She’s perfectly successful in her own regard. She is far too confident and accomplished to be _bitter!_

If she repeats that to herself enough, someday she might believe it.

Their parents have loved Kamilah best from the beginning, and that holds true right up until the end. Kamilah is not present when they pass. Neither is Tahani. She questioned herself over that, but in the end - why punish herself over something she doubts they even _noticed?_

Kamilah inherits the entire estate, for all that she hardly needs it. Tahani didn’t need it either. She _is_ perfectly successful on her own; that isn’t the part that’s a lie. But it still hurts, to have the bare truth of both their lives laid down so plainly in black-and-white - and then, on top of it all, Kamilah jets off to America only hours later. She’s busy making some new ultra-platinum record, or something like that. _She_ doesn’t have time to deal with all the mundane practicalities of closing out their parents’ estate. Once again, it all falls to Tahani.

The next day dawns grey and dreary. Tahani wakes early, hoping to finish before the day is entirely spent. Perhaps she’ll call on a friend in the afternoon, or go take herself to a nice dinner. Anything to wash out the taste of boxing up her parents' lives.

She meant to take some calls on the ride over - even if _they're_ dead, life still goes on for her. She has a charity ball in two months to plan for: guest lists to draw up, dress selections to make, decorations to arrange. Instead, she stares out the window. There’s a light rain falling outside, great silver droplets beading on the glass. The people on the street are all bundled up in their coats, scarves drawn up to their chins, some ducking down beneath umbrellas. Only the shops are bright, warm light glowing from their windows. She cranes her neck, but the glass is fogged over and she is moving too fast to. There's no chance of seeing inside.

By the end of today, her childhood home will be empty. By the end of the month, no doubt, it will be sold off to someone else. There’s little to mourn there, but the sheer loneliness of it aches.

Part of her wonders: does it make her a bad person? She’s unhappy, but it’s all for herself. She’s not quite sure she’s sorry over her parents’ deaths at all.

But then again, she used to wonder when she was young what _they_ would feel if _she_ died. Oh, she'd imagine grand funerals, devastation and apologies! It was childish, but still a pretty fiction. It used to help her ignore the real answer.

Finally, they arrive. A pit opens in Tahani’s stomach as they roll up the long driveway, past the green and the bordered gardens. After they stop, it takes her several moments to disembark.

She knows, of course, what people are supposed to feel about their childhood homes. But her nostalgia lives only in scraps, stolen moments of happiness - her bedroom overlooking the eastern lawn, the flowerbeds where daffodils bloomed in the spring. Everything else here belonged to her family, which meant that it had never really belonged to Tahani.

She has to steel her spine, to walk up the stairs and through the door, but she’s not a child anymore; she does it. Inside, the home is exactly as she remembers. She does not go upstairs to see the state of her childhood bedroom, or Kamilah’s for that matter. Instead, she directs the movers about, makes general pronouncements on what should go into storage and what should be carted away for sale, and then she goes to sit out on the front steps. It’s still raining, but only a light drizzle now, and the grey over the world suits her mood.

“Ms. Al-Jamil?”

Tahani turns. One of the movers is standing nearby, anxiously holding a large cardboard box to his chest. “Yes?”

“We found this tucked away in one of the upstairs closets. We think it was your sister’s room - Kamilah’s.” His voice goes reverent over Kamilah’s name, repeating it like a prayer. As if Tahani does not know her own sister’s name. “What do you want us to do with it?”

Tahani eyes the box. It can’t be anything very important; it’s been years since either of them lived here. Most likely it’s some old artwork from childhood, drafts made before some grand final project. That sort of thing that would go for millions at the charity ball. She’d rather die than host it, and that probably _does_ make her a bad person.

“Give it to me,” she decides, gesturing impatiently. “I’ll see that she gets it.”

She won’t. But at least if she chucks it in her cellar somewhere, she won’t have to hear anyone rhapsodizing about the newest unearthed Kamilah treasure.

* * *

Tahani stows the box in the car, and quite frankly forgets about it until they return home and the driver unloads it for her. She very nearly considers burning the entire thing and having done with it. But curiosity wins out, and she ends up alone in the sitting room, leafing through her sister’s childhood belongings.

Much of it is occult. That’s no surprise; Kamilah has always dabbled in magic and mysticism. She’s set off several trends in that vein, as a matter of fact. A year ago, Tahani couldn’t leave home without seeing three or four young girls bedecked in amethyst or rose quartz. It was grating, but ultimately harmless; just the kind of simple charms you could get at low cost from any decent corner-witch.

But at the bottom of the box, there’s books. Things bound in leather, untitled, clearly hidden beneath sheafs of paper.

Tahani’s frown deepens as she flips through them, scanning over runes and diagrams she barely understands. Kamilah obviously understood them - parts are annotated, others highlighted - but for once Tahani isn’t jealous. _This_ goes far beyond ordinary dabbling.

She traces a finger over one diagram: a circle with a pentagram. _That's_ something she knows. That's something _everyone_ know. Was Kamilah involved in _demonology?_

Shock and something strangely close to concern war in her chest. She casts her memory back, but the Kamilah in Tahani's head is a smug, towering monolith. Barely even _human,_ much less a child at risk. Does she even remember it clearly? Would she have noticed any warning signs at the time?

Maybe she’s just overreacting - even if Kamliah had an interest, it’s hard to believe she could have been quite so _stupid_ as to actually deal with demons. Only desperate or foolish people would take such a risk, and Kamilah has never wanted for a thing. She always had it all - their parents’ love, their family’s wealth, all the fame and success anyone could want - and she barely ever seemed to even _try_ …

Several things seem to click into place at once.

“... _oh_ ,” Tahani breathes, dropping the book as if it were a brand. But in the next second, furious tears springing to her eyes, she picks it up again and begins to read.

* * *

Down in her basement, in the smaller and lesser-used studio, Tahani has to accept that she’s about to lose the high ground. Summoning a demon simply to confirm your suspicions might be even stupider than summoning it to bargain for everything you could ever want.

But then, the knowledge she wants isn’t so valuable. It shouldn’t cost much, right?

(For the moment, Tahani steadfastly ignores the implications. To think that she maybe _could_ have been loved, and Kamilah made a demonic pact to _steal_ it from her - Tahani has every right to be furious! She shouldn’t have to worry about what price her sister must have paid.)

Tahani has never studied magic; her interests have always been far more practical. But Kamilah kept thorough notes. It’s simple enough to follow in her footsteps. Runes, candles, protective wards. She’s always heard that the most dangerous demons are called via blood sacrifice, but there’s nothing of the sort involved in this summoning. Maybe it’s only a minor demon, a creature that couldn’t even _make_ such a powerful bargain.

As she lights the candles and starts the incantation, Tahani is not quite hopeful.

The cellar has brand-new electric lights, but they seem to fade like the sun behind clouds as the ritual progresses. Smoke pours from nowhere in the middle of the circle, rising into a great pillar that finally coalesces into a shape.

Tahani blinks in surprise. The demon’s taken the form of an older gentleman: tall with strikingly white hair, wearing a midnight blue suit with a bowtie and pocket square both in a lovely shade of pink. It’s an outfit that Tahani would probably find rather charming under any other circumstances. In this case, it just seems a bit unsettling, like a ghostly child from a horror film. Demons shouldn't dress like that; they shouldn't look so mundane. 

“Oh. You’re new.” He looks her up and down. Tahani lifts her chin, refusing to be intimidated. She’s used to being scrutinized, if not in quite such a literally predatory fashion. “What do you want?”

“My name is Tahani al-Jamil.” She’s already rehearsed her lines, of course. Far be it from Tahani to take any meeting unprepared. “I believe you made a deal with my younger sister Kamilah, some years back.”

“Kamilah!” The demon grins, an expression that does not properly reach his eyes. “Yes, I remember that! I’m still getting dividends for that, you know. Always great to snag a famous one.”

Tahani bristles. As little as she likes Kamilah, she still doesn’t like to hear her described like a fish on a hook. “And what were the terms of that deal? Fame and fortune? Her soul for a _lifetime_ of public adoration?”

The demon tsks. “Oh, Tahani, I can’t tell you _that!_ Deals are strictly confidential between a demon and their human.”

“ _I’ve_ never heard that rule anywhere before.”

He smiles. “It’s a rule. Trust me. I couldn’t tell you even if I wanted to...unless, maybe, the wheels were greased a bit?"

Of course. It was worth _trying_ to get such a simple question answered for free, but that isn’t how demons work. Everyone knows that. “Fine. What do you want?”

“You’re the one who wants to deal in souls.” That grin grows wider. His eyes are blue, she notices. There’s a coldness behind them that she’s never seen before, and she _has_ attended several parties with Jeff Bezos.

“I’m not giving you my _soul_ for a simple piece of information!” Unnerved despite herself, Tahani takes a step backwards. She regrets it immediately. There’s little he can do to her while trapped in the warding circle. The worst possible thing is to show weakness; a demon who can get under your skin _will_ try to dig in. “I’ll trade information _for_ information. I have a lot of famous friends, you know, and I could tell you a lot of secrets.”

It’s an ugly notion. Tahani would ordinarily never consider it. She hates the idea of spreading gossip, as if she’d sold herself to some common tabloid; many of these people are her _friends._ But it’s not as if she’s selling their souls. She’s not even sure how exactly a demon would be able to use that sort of information.

Unfortunately, the demon agrees. “That’s very interesting, but I can’t appear on Earth without a summoning. Really limits my blackmailing opportunities. Besides, you think I don’t have a good source for celebrity gossip?”

“Surely not as good as me.”

His gaze flicks disdainfully over her. “She’s a lot more _fun_ than you.”

Tahani’s not quite sure what to make of that. She flips her hair, doing her best to look prideful. “Well! I’m terribly sorry I’m not some young, naive girl for you to prey on.”

“Oh, boo-hoo,” the demon drawls. His tone sends a chill down Tahani’s spine. “Children own their souls as much as any other human. It’s not _my_ problem if they’re stupid about - “

Suddenly, the demon turns his head, eyes going wide. Tahani follows his gaze, but there’s nothing there, and she’s sure she didn’t hear anything. Perhaps it’s some demonic sense? Whatever it is, it’s concerning - he’s bouncing a little on his toes now, and nothing that excites a demon can be good for anybody else. “Could we hurry this up? I’m getting another summons.”

Tahani frowns. “Give me my information, then, and I’ll dismiss you.”

“I can’t work for _free_ , Tahani. That isn’t how any of this works!”

Tahani narrows her eyes. “You can have some celebrity gossip _and_ be dismissed quickly.”

He sighs, shoulders sagging. For a moment, bizarrely, he looks like nothing more than some overgrown, petulant teenager. “ _Ugh_. Fine, whatever. Your sister gave me her soul in return for everyone loving her. I own her now, and there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it. Bye~!”

Heedless of Tahani’s reaction, he steps back into a second column of smoke and vanishes.

After he’s gone, Tahani allows herself to kick one of the extinguished candles across the room with a little scream. There’s too many feelings swirled up inside her, anger and horror and even some awful vindication. She’s crying before she even starts back up the stairs.

(She’s so upset that it takes her several hours to realize that the demon rushed off without even getting the rest of his payment. Strange.)


	2. Chapter 2

Tahani flies to Cleveland.

She has no plans. She had weeks, and an entire cross-continental flight, to plan, and she lands in America with nothing. What are you even supposed to do, in a situation like this? Finishing school never taught her how to handle business with _demons!_

All she knows is that she can’t just swallow it down for the rest of her life. She needs to confront Kamilah.

It’s a confrontation many years too late, and now she can’t even take any pleasure in it. In the darkest corners of her heart, Tahani has often wanted her sister gone - but she never would have wanted her _dragged to Hell._ All of their feuding seems suddenly petty. Even her own jealousy seems petty, now that she knows just what Kamilah’s stardom cost her.

She’s still angry. She thinks that might make her a bad person, though, so she’s trying her best to ignore it. Instead, she throws herself full force into older memories, the kind she’d never allowed herself to dwell on before. She and Kamilah weren’t _always_ so spiteful towards one another. Once upon a time, before Kamilah grew old enough to outshine her, Tahani was simply her big sister. Their parents were never really nurturing people, and their nannies never lasted long, always being dismissed for one minor flaw or another. Tahani was the one who had to teach the replacements how best to get Kamilah to sleep, or which stuffies she liked best. It’s difficult to reconcile the image of that tiny girl she used to look after with the adult Kamilah became: cruel, condescending, mean. Demon-bound.

Was that what made Kamilah so desperate for love, all those years ago? Their parents? Knowing that her sister won by cheating ought to feel like vindication, but it only makes her wonder - are they more similar than she ever thought?

That might not be enough to bridge the gap. Tahani wasn’t even invited to Kamilah’s party; her name at the door isn’t enough to get in. But Tahani can be resourceful. She makes her way inside.

It’s easy to find Kamilah. It always is; crowds just orbit her, as if they were specks of cosmic dust caught in the gravitational pull of an enormous sun. Tahani cuts through them all. “Hello, Kamilah.”

“Tahani!” Kamilah’s eyebrows shoot up, and she turns from the young women currently fawning over her. “Are you working in food service now? How wonderful for you!”

Before, that barb would have infuriated Tahani. It still stings. No demon made _Kamilah_ act like this, either. But Tahani has not come this far to be turned aside so easily. “Kamilah,” she hisses, glancing meaningfully at her sister’s sycophants. “I _need_ to _talk_ to you.”

“Really, Tahani?” Kamilah waves a hand lazily. “I don’t have time for this right now. Haven’t you got some catering to attend to?”

Hot anger spikes through Tahani. She curls her hands into fists, willing herself to look past it. This is more important than any petty barbs her sister can land. “It’s about Mother and Father’s home. I found some of your _old things.”_

She can’t tell if Kamilah gets the implication, but something of her tone must land. Kamilah frowns, then starts to disentangle herself from her hangers-on. “Oh, very well. But only for a moment. I have to give a speech tonight, you know.”

“Of course,” Tahani bites off. Of course she has to give a speech at her party about her latest epic accomplishment. Gritting her teeth, she turns and leads the way around the enormous golden Kamilah statue - why not just build one of Michael at that point? - off to a service exit. It’s the only way to avoid cameras, and as much as part of her loves the idea of Kamilah having an unfortunate dark magic scandal…

...well. If she were going to leak that information to the media, she would have done it much more gracefully.

Kamilah follows her out of the party without complaint. The complaints start once they’re outside. “What could this _possibly_ be about, Tahani?”

“Your _demon summoning,_ that’s what!” Kamilah’s face drops in shock. This time, Tahani doesn’t suppress her vicious satisfaction. “That’s right. I know _all_ about that now. You can rub it in my face all you like, but at least I _earned_ everything I’ve got!”

“And _I_ didn’t?” Kamilah recovers and draws herself up haughtily. “Do you have any idea what I’ve sacrificed?”

“Of course I do!” Tahani hisses. “How could you possibly do something so _stupid?”_

“Stupid? I did what I had to do! Of course you wouldn’t understand, you’ve never had what it takes to get ahead.”

Tahani sputters in disbelief. Her family has told her that before, but in this context, it’s grotesque. “It’s your _soul,_ Kamilah! Maybe you’ve gotten ahead in _life_ , but your _afterlife_ is going to be much longer!”

Kamilah frowns, folding her arms and turning away. The cold industrial lights back here make her dramatic makeup and heavy jewelry look gaudy. Even after everything, Tahani’s height still makes her look small. “What do you want me to say? It’s done now,” she says in a tight voice. “I can’t change it, so I might as well enjoy it while it lasts.”

It’s true. Tahani _hates_ that it’s true. If Kamilah could even show an _ounce_ of remorse for _anything -_ “Why would you even do something like this? You must have been so _young!_ ”

“Of course I was! I was just a girl! How else was I ever going to surpass you?”

The world tilts on its axis. Tahani blinks. “Surpass _me?”_

“Of course you don’t even remember. It was a long time ago.” Kamilah glowers at a spot on the concrete wall. It’s such a childish sulk, something Tahani hasn’t seen her do in at least a decade. “When I was very young, Mother and Father always loved _you_ best. You were older. I was a child, of _course_ you were better at everything than I was!”

“Mother and Father _never - “_

Kamilah waves Tahani’s objections off. “Oh, it wasn’t the way they were with me afterwards. They never could have loved anybody like that on their own. But at least they _looked_ at you. All I ever got was _Tahani’s already begun her violin lessons,_ or _at least Tahani’s artwork is coherent._ As if small children are known for their realism.”

She snorts bitterly, and scrubs hard at her eye with the palm of her hand. “You know, one day I drew them a picture, and they called it nonsense. Then I made the deal, and they called it the start of my _abstract period._ They never even realized it was the same picture.”

Tahani remembers Kamilah being a loud, dramatic crier. Now, angry tears roll silently down her cheeks. “I _know_ all that over-the-top love was fake. But at least I got to see what it would have been like.”

Tahani digs her fingernails into her palms, forcing back her own tears. “So I didn’t get to have anything at all, is that it? Not even whatever scraps of attention they gave me before? You wanted them to _hate me_?”

“ _I_ didn’t do that.” Kamilah still doesn’t look at her. But Tahani - she knows. She already knew.

She can’t watch this anymore. She turns to pace the narrow corridor. Her heels echo on the concrete; beyond them, she can still hear the distant sounds of the party. She wants to gather her little sister up in a hug. She wants to slap her across the face.

“You didn’t help me. You never even tried. You just went right on along with them - and you _knew_ they wouldn’t get angry at you for it! If you’d been kind to me even once, it probably would have become some kind of _global trend_.”

Kamilah laughs hollowly. “You’re probably right.”

Tahani stares daggers at the door. What more is there to say?

“You’re right,” Kamilah repeats finally. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gloated about it. It just - I _know_ none of them really love me. And you’re the only one who hates me more than she loves me, so at least _this_ is real. Ugh, I’m not expressing myself clearly at all - really, you should see the pieces from my latest gallery, I think that will explain it.”

“Please do shut up, Kamilah,” Tahani replies automatically. She can’t think about this with her prattling on about her accomplishments like always. It _is_ a bit of a jumbled mess, but that seems only fair. Tahani’s own feelings are too.

She hadn’t really thought about it before - that the deal ought to have made _her_ love Kamilah as blindly as the rest of them. It’s enough to make it seem like Michael broke his own contract. She’s never _understood_ that overwhelming adoration the rest of the world has, much less felt it herself.

Still...she had wanted to be a good big sister, once.

“I loved you before the contract,” she says finally. “You must at _least_ remember _that.”_

Was that what made the difference? No need to use magic to fabricate love, when it’s already there? The only person who could say for sure is probably the demon himself, and god knows she’s not going to ask _him._

“I know,” Kamilah says quietly. “Well, at least you know I’m going to pay for it all later.”

Tahani shudders. “Our family is so bloody _miserable.”_

Kamilah snorts. “It really is.”

“Right. And we’re not going to make it any worse than it is,” she decides aloud. Even if her feelings aren’t perfect, she can still _try._ “We’re not going to be like Mother and Father. You already know I’m not being magically compelled to love you, so let’s...let’s try just it out the normal way, alright? By...by _talking_ to each other, instead of all this competition?”

She finally turns to face Kamilah again, and opens her arms. Kamilah hesitates - when _was_ the last time they hugged, even? - but even if she still can’t quite make eye contact, she does accept the hug. “Alright.”

When she leaves Cleveland, it’s with Kamilah’s personal number in her phone. They text briefly before she goes - banal wishes for safe travel, nothing more. But at least it’s a start.

* * *

This time, Tahani is less nervous.

She ought to be _more_ nervous. She would be, except that she’s filled her week ruthlessly, packing meetings and appointments and plans so close atop one another that she hardly has time to think about her secret endeavor. If she stops to think about it, she’s afraid she’d back out. She doesn’t want to be that person.

So this time, she doesn’t give the demon a chance to launch into some kind of evil monologue when he arrives. “You! Demon! I wish to barter with you.”

“ _Obviously_.” The demon glares at her. He doesn’t cut quite the same dignified figure today; his suit is a little rumpled, as if she’d pulled him out of bed. Do demons sleep during the day? No, surely that’s vampires? “And my _name_ is Michael.”

“Michael, then.” Tahani draws herself up. “What would it take for you to relinquish my sister’s soul?”

The demon stares at her for a moment. “You know that’s gonna be a big sacrifice, right? Soul for a soul’s the general rule.”

“I do.”

“So why would you even ask? I know you two don’t get along. Knew you wouldn’t from the second I made that deal with her.” He smiles. It’s vicious, not at all the same gleeful expression from the last time she spoke with him. “A little girl everyone’s compelled to adore, versus a plain old kid? Of course no one gave you any attention.”

Tahani curls her hands into fists. “She’s still my sister, and I love her. And rules can be bent. We must be able to work something out.”

“You love her? After all the shit she’s put you through? Bullshit.” Michael’s lip curls as he steps forward, as close to the barrier as he can come without brushing up against it. “What do you get out of this? You wanna feel like a good person? Maybe make her _think_ you care about her?”

“Wouldn’t a good person just trade their own soul?” she asks, before she can stop herself. No. Maybe that’s true, but she can’t afford to talk like that now. There will be plenty of time for self-recrimination once this demon is _gone_. “You can agree to discuss alternate terms, or I shall dismiss you and seek other opportunities.”

He stares down at her. Tahani holds his gaze. As she does, she starts to realize that he’s not simply disheveled. There’s dark circles beneath his eyes, and his easy demeanor from before is entirely absent. He’s been frowning nearly this entire time - and, she thinks, not at _her._

“Okay,” he says finally. “A soul for a soul. But I’ll make it easy on you.” Finally, he breaks her gaze, looking down to readjust one of his cufflinks. “There’s a woman living in Arizona right now named Eleanor Shellstrop. Help me get _her_ soul, and I’ll return your sister’s.”

Tahani’s stomach drops. “You want somebody _else’s?”_ She’d been prepared for him to ask for her soul, and to have to bargain down from there. But bargaining _sideways,_ to a third party? How can she just sacrifice an innocent stranger? “How could I possibly get _that?”_

“That’s really not my problem, Tahani.” Michael spreads his hands. “You wanted your terms? You have them.”

And with that, he dismisses himself, collapsing down into the swirling dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Credit to mc2rpg for the great idea about Kamilah!


End file.
